


Sunset on the Highway

by bertee



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-23
Updated: 2013-06-23
Packaged: 2018-05-15 17:44:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5793919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bertee/pseuds/bertee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Superhero!Jared and firefighter!Jensen take a roadtrip during the zombie apocalypse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sunset on the Highway

Blood splattered across Jensen's face as his blade slid through flesh.

He didn't pause to watch the head drop to the ground as he spun around to face the zombie lurching up behind him. Half its shoulder was missing in a mass of sinew and crushed bone but while one arm dangled uselessly at its side, the other reached for Jensen with outstretched fingers. 

Jared wasn't sure what good his warning would've done but he didn't even get a chance to yell one as Jensen evaded the zombie's grasp and brought his machete down in a clean strike across its neck. 

It fell, collapsing into the dirt beside its headless companion, and Jensen looked over to him, blood still painted on his cheeks in a thick spray. "Jared, the kid!"

The tail end of Jensen's shout was overlaid by a terrified scream from behind him. Whirling around, Jared pushed down a flare of embarrassed anger at the fact that a zombie had gotten past him somehow. It beat at the window of the car by the side of the road, not caring about the broken glass tearing its arms as it smashed its way through to reach for the little girl cowering in the back seat.

Her father was on the other side of the road, taking cover behind Jensen as he wielded a tire iron with unpracticed panic, and so her plea of "Daddy!" went unanswered. 

The zombie growled, broken jaw moving in an attempted smile as it lunged for her, but Jared's hands closed around its head before it could reach that last few inches.

His power flowed through him, all the anger and fear and frustration of the last eight months channeled into the heat that poured from his hands. The familiar energy ignited under his skin, coursing through his body like fire, and he breathed through the rush as it flooded out in hot waves.

The zombie's scream eclipsed that of the kid and Jared barely remembered to haul it back out of the way in time to avoid traumatizing the little girl any more than she already had been. The heat from his hands seeped through its skull, burning away the one thing that kept the zombies functioning, and Jared stepped back with a grimace as the zombie dropped motionless to the ground, dark blood pouring from its ears and eyes.

The heat inside him died as quickly as it arose, snuffed out like a candle, and Jared took a breath as he wiped his bloody hands on his jeans.

Inside the car, the girl was still crying. After one quick glance over his shoulder to see Jensen and her dad dispatch the last of the zombies, Jared leaned into the wrecked car with a smile. "Hey, it's okay," he said, trying to look as comforting as he could while stained with blood. "I'm one of the good guys, okay? You wanna come see your dad?"

Cowering back against the opposite door, the girl looked up at Jared with big, terrified eyes. "I- Is the monster gone?"

Hearing the squelch of the last zombie being decapitated, Jared nodded. "Sure is." He held out his hand. "C'mon. It's okay."

As he'd expect from a survivor of a recent zombie attack, the kid hesitated but Jared's smile broadened when she finally reached out to take his hand. 

"Kayla!"

Jared turned around at the shout but quickly got out of the way as the father of the girl -- Kayla, presumably -- came running across the empty road. His daughter was in his arms in an instant, clinging to him tightly, and Jared stepped back over the corpse at his feet as he watched them hug.

Spending his days fighting zombies wasn't always the most fun career choice but it definitely had its high points.

 

****

+++

"So all the people who lived in the building got out safely," Jared said, resting his leg up on the fender of the car, "but then one of the support beams cracked before Jensen could follow them out."

Kayla's brow crinkled in a frown and Jared adjusted his explanation at the mental reminder that he was talking to a five (and three-quarters) year old. "The support beams are things that hold the house up," he said, doing a passable mime of a support beam. "Like the poles in a tent when you go camping. But because the fire was so hot, one of these broke and the ceiling fell down on top of him when he was trying to get out."

Kayla's eyes went wide as she looked to Jensen for proof that he was still alive, not squashed under a collapsed building somewhere. "Did you save him?"

"I did," Jared said, trying not to sound as proud as he felt. "When the ceiling fell down, it knocked him out so he couldn't get out of the house while it was on fire."

"But you weren't scared of the fire?" she asked, tucking her legs under herself as they perched on the hood of the car.

"Oh, I was scared," Jared said with a smile. "Sure, fire doesn't really hurt me but the ceiling could've fallen down on me too." His gaze traveled over to where Jensen was showing Kayla's father how to wield a machete. "But I was really, really careful and I managed to carry him out of there before anything else happened to us."

Kayla stared up at him in awe. "Are you a superhero?" she asked. "Like Batman?"

Jared chuckled. "I don't think I'm as cool as Batman," he said. "But yeah. I'm kind of a superhero." He wiggled his fingers in the air, letting them heat to a glowing red. "A superhero who's really great at making popcorn."

Kayla laughed. "What's your name?"

He frowned. They'd done the handshake and introduction part of the conversation already. "I'm Jared."

"No." She shook her head firmly. "Your superhero name. Like Batman and Superman. Are you Hotman?"

"No," Jared said, coughing into his fist. "No, I'm not Hotman." He decided it was better not to mention that the name was remarkably similar to one of the pick-up lines he'd used in college. "I, uh, I don't really have a superhero name anymore."

It was the truth. There were no cities anymore, no places bigger than a small town in the chaotic aftermath, so the reputation of a superhero didn't have anywhere to spread to. There was no world left to be saved and now in their all-too-frequent encounters with zombies, Jared's abilities were more like a weapon than a whole identity.

Kayla looked surprisingly disappointed by the news. "Did you used to have a name?" she asked hopefully. "Before the big shake?"

That was her and her dad's term for it, Jared had learned. Rob, her dad, had explained the earthquakes, disease, zombies, and all the other horrific disasters to her as 'the whole world being shaken up' and so it was now known as 'the big shake'. 

Jared guessed 'apocalypse' was too hard to pronounce.

"Yeah," he said, swinging his legs against the front of the car. "Yeah, I used to have a name."

"What was it?" Kayla asked, innocent and expectant, and Jared cringed inwardly. He'd hoped they could avoid this.

"Radiator."

Kayla stared at him.

"Y'know," Jared continued, making a vaguely radiate-ish hand gesture, "'cause I radiate heat. Like a radiator."

Jensen had laughed for ten minutes straight when Jared first told him his superhero name. Kayla's little giggle was a definite improvement, he decided.

"Radiator?" she repeated, sounding very skeptical for a five-year-old. "That's a silly name."

"Right?" Leaning back against the car, Jared shrugged. "Even superheroes make bad choices sometimes. You'll understand when you go to coll-" He stopped mid-word, reminding himself there were no colleges left to go to. "You'll understand one day."

Out on the road, the rumble of a car engine caught their attention and Jared looked over to see Jensen climb out of the now-running car and pat Rob on the back with a grin.

"Hey, Kayla," Jared said, "looks like your dad's got some new wheels. You wanna go take a look?"

She didn't need to be asked twice as she hopped off the hood of the broken-down car and went running over to Jensen and Rob. Jared followed in time to catch the tail end of the conversation as Jensen gave Rob directions to the settlement they'd passed early that morning.

"You're not coming with us?" Kayla asked, tugging on Jared's hand.

Jared crouched down beside her. "Sorry, honey. It's dangerous out here -- me and Jensen need to go make sure other kids are safe as well."

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Jensen smirk but he ignored it as Kayla said, wide-eyed, "But what if the monsters come back?"

"Then your dad'll take care of it," Jensen said, walking around the car. "He knows the best ways to fight them off now and in a couple of hours, you'll be safe in a town with a bunch of other people. That sound good?" 

Jensen's face was still smudged with blood but that didn't seem to faze Kayla as she nodded fervently. 

"Awesome." Jensen gave her a reassuring smile and Jared tried to hide his grin. When it was just the two of them, Jensen's default status was somewhere between grumpy and sarcastic but as soon as civilians were around, he switched seamlessly back into helpful and professional mode. Apparently the firefighter training had outlasted the actual job.

Patting the hood of the car he'd just hotwired, Jensen turned back to Rob. "There should be enough gas in here to get you guys to the settlement. Drive fast, don't stop for anyone, and keep the machete with you at all times."

Rob looked pale but resolute as he nodded. "Got it." He reached down to squeeze Kayla's shoulder. "Do you wanna say thank you to the nice men before we go, baby?"

"Thank you," Kayla said dutifully before looking up at her dad with a bright smile. "Daddy, Jared's a superhero."

Rob chuckled. "A superhero, huh? Well, aren't we lucky?"

Pushing himself back up to standing, Jared moved to stand next to Jensen as Rob buckled a chattering Kayla into the car and took his own place in the driver's seat. Blood was smeared along Jensen's jaw where he hadn't managed to wipe it all away and Jared reached out to clean off a dark blotch on his earlobe.

"Hey!" Jensen slapped his hand away with a scowl. "Why is there touching happening?"

"You had some blood on you!"

"I always have some blood on me," Jensen muttered. "That's not an excuse for you to fondle my ear."

"Ah, there's the Jensen I know and love." Jared slid his hands in his pockets and looked forward again. "How come I never get the kind, helpful version of you?"

"Because you're a pain in the ass," he said matter-of-factly. "Now say goodbye to the nice people."

Jared plastered on a fake smile but found that it became genuine a moment later when he leaned down to wave goodbye to Kayla through the car window. "You look after your dad for me, okay?"

Her tiny hand was a blur as she waved back. "I will!" She beamed up at him. "Go save more people."

Jared saluted. "Yes, ma'am."

"Bye, Jensen!" Kayla called, way louder than necessary given that Jensen was standing right there. Jensen waved back and she looked between the two of them before asking in a stage whisper, "Is Jensen a superhero too?"

"I, uh-" Conscious of Jensen's eyes on him, Jared shook his head. "No. No, he's-"

He didn't get to deliver his standard (if cheesy) answer of "he's a regular hero" before Kayla interrupted, "Is he your sidekick?"

"Yes," Jared said quickly, before Jensen could tell her otherwise. He slung an arm around Jensen's shoulders and smiled broadly. "He is one hundred percent my sidekick."

Kayla looked delighted by this news but Rob spoke up before they could go into any more detail about what sidekick duties Jensen performed. "All right, let's go, sweetheart." He gave them a sincere smile as he eased the car into motion. "Thanks again, guys."

"Our pleasure," Jared called after them.

The car peeled off down the road, kicking up dust in its wake as it headed back east, and Jared watched it go, enjoying the ability to stretch his legs before they got back in their own truck.

Jensen didn't take his eyes off the car as he said calmly, "I'm going to kill you."

Jared shrugged. "Worth it."

 

****

+++

It took them another six hours to reach the next town.

The day slipped by, hours lost to the roll of their truck down empty highways, and the sun was starting to hide behind a tree-blanketed ridge by the time they first laid eyes on the barricades of Randolph.

The town was tiny but relatively intact, compared to some of the other cities they'd seen. It was tucked low in the valley, bordered by the treeline and the slopes of the hills, and from the way the dying sunlight glinted off the metal panels, it seemed fairly well protected against zombies. The name of the settlement was spray-painted onto the corrugated iron barricades but it broke apart between the 'd' and the 'o' as the inhabitants opened the gates to let Jared and Jensen drive inside to safety.

(As well as 'form coherent sentences' and 'exercise self control', driving a car was also something zombies couldn't manage.)

However, clearly not being zombies wasn't enough to stop them being greeted by a pair of guns aimed at their faces once the truck had come to a stop.

Jensen killed the engine with a sigh and Jared took it upon himself to deal with the gun holders. "Hey, guys. Everything cool?"

The woman holding a rifle on Jensen was the first to answer and Jared craned his neck to see out of the other side of the truck. "Who are you?" she asked, not lowering the gun an inch. "How did you get here?"

She wore a familiar chocolate-brown shirt over her tank top and Jared relaxed a little when he saw the pointed star pinned to the front of her uniform. "It's okay," he said, holding his hands up. "We're not looking for trouble, Sheriff."

The Sheriff narrowed her eyes. "That's nice for you, but it doesn't answer my questions."

"Sorry," Jared said with a friendly smile. "My name's Jared and this is Jensen. We've just come through from Iowa and we were hoping to crash here for a couple of nights."

The Sheriff's eyebrows rose. "You're traveling?"

"Traveling, fighting zombies, helping people out." He grinned. "Y'know, the usual kind of thing."

She eyed them suspiciously before gesturing to Jensen's face with her gun. "So all that blood…"

Jared smirked -- he'd told him to clean off the blood and, as usual, Jensen had ignored his helpful advice -- but Jensen just shot him a glare as he said, "Zombie blood. Decapitations can get messy."

The Sheriff exchanged looks with the guy holding the gun on Jared. Despite having a few years on Jared, he was younger than the Sheriff and seemed far less comfortable holding a gun. His eyes flitted between the two of them and the Sheriff but Jared exhaled in relief when they finally lowered the weapons. 

"All right," the Sheriff said, letting the rifle hang down in the crook of her arm. "Welcome to Randolph, gentlemen."

 

****

+++

Randolph had beer.

That fact was enough to propel it into the top ten list of settlements they'd visited but the realization that the Sheriff and her buddy were actually pretty awesome company took Randolph easily into Jared's top five.

Setting the next round on the rickety table, Jared slid back into his seat as Jensen jerked his thumb in his direction said, "I think one of my worst experiences was coming back to find this guy trying to make out with a zombie." He wrinkled his nose. "That wasn't something I ever wanted to think about."

The Sheriff -- Lanette, he'd learned -- looked over at him in amused disgust. "You kissed a zombie?"

"Maybe he got lonely," Misha cut in before Jared could protest. Over the course of the evening, they'd found out that Misha was a) the local coroner, b) a strange individual, and c) much more fun when he wasn't aiming a gun at Jared's face. 

"People go looking for love in weird places," he said, impressively straight-faced. "As long as he was a consenting adult and his partner was a consenting flesh-eating undead monstrosity, that is totally his business." He patted Jared on the shoulder and then snagged a beer. "I support you and your creepy choices."

"It wasn't a choice!" Jared protested as Jensen and Lanette laughed. "It was dark. I got confused."

Jensen held up his hands. "Whatever you say, champ."

Jared glowered at him. "Asshole."

Raising his eyebrows, Jensen shot him a grin before reaching for his beer. Jared made a mental note to hide his favorite shirt later.

"So where were you when the zombie make-out happened?" Lanette asked, leaning forward on the wooden table. "Which state?"

Lanette was the more practical one of the two. (Jared figured you didn't get to be Sheriff during the zombie apocalypse without a generous helping of good sense.) During the conversation, she'd asked about details of their travels, building up a broader picture of the groups of survivors and the resources out there, but from the way her questions often strayed into more personal matters, he guessed the end of the world had loosened her up a little.

As the practical one of their two, it was left to Jensen to answer. "Georgia. There's a militarized compound on the edge of Valdosta."

Lanette shook her head as she took another drink. "You two really have been all over, huh?"

"What can I say," Jared said, "we get around."

Misha leaned in. "Now, do you have a zombie in every port or was Georgia just special?"

Jared rolled his eyes at the laughter that broke out around the table. "Fuck you guys," he said good-naturedly. "I can't be the only one who's hooked up with someone they shouldn't."

"True," Lanette said. "But my ex-husband never tried to eat my brains."

"It's a no on the brain-eating for my brother's prom date too," Misha said, knocking back some more beer. "I think you're alone there, man. Jensen?"

Jensen shook his head as he took another drink. "Nope, never tried to make out with a zombie."

"Hey, you hooked up with that blond dude in North Carolina," Jared teased. "He was pretty close to a zombie."

"Eat me, Padalecki." 

Jared grinned at him.

"So you two aren't together?" Lanette asked, looking between him and Jensen in confusion. "Or is it one of those open relationship things?"

"We're not together," Jensen said, way too firmly for Jared's liking. (It's not like it would be that bad if they were a couple. Jared had it on good authority that he was a very considerate lover.)

"No attachments here," he agreed, holding his arms out. "I am one hundred percent available."

Lanette laughed. "I'll pass, thanks."

Across the booth, Misha tilted his head. "What's your position on roleplay? Specifically roleplay of cheerleaders having a pillow fight."

Jared blinked at him but Lanette gave Misha a playful shove back into his seat as she groaned. "Save this discussion for the bedroom, Collins."

Misha winked in Jared's direction.

Jared gulped.

"So you're just friends?" Lanette asked again. "Friends on a roadtrip through a country full of the undead?"

"We're not exactly sightseeing," Jensen said. "We figured we could be more help to more people if we moved around rather than staying in one place. Once a settlement's in place with food, water and barricades, people generally don't need that much help."

Lanette and Misha exchanged glances.

"You help people," Lanette repeated. "That's it? That's your whole reason for doing what you do?"

"We're really, really good samaritans," Jared said with feigned solemnity. "Also I get antsy if I stay in one place too long."

Shaking her head, Lanette downed the rest of her beer before leaning forward on the table. "Maybe you can help us out then. I don't know if it's in your wheelhouse -- it's not like we need to you fight off hoards of rampaging creatures -- but if you're here…"

"Sure," Jensen said. He was really good, Jared had noticed, at striking that ideal balance between sympathetic and competent when listening to people's troubles. Whenever Jared had these conversations, he always came across as way too chipper at the thought of life-threatening zombie peril. "We can help out with whatever you need. What's the problem?"

Lanette looked down at her hands. "It's probably nothing. I saw it all the time before-" She swallowed. "When I was at work. People would go through something traumatic and they'd get paranoid, start jumping to the wrong conclusions."

Jensen's voice stayed level and non-judgmental. "What conclusions are you jumping to?"

"Undead ninjas," Misha said bluntly.

Lanette rolled her eyes. "They're not ninjas. We just- We have good barricades," she said. "There were a lot of cabins around here and we found a lot of decent metal to build up our walls. I've checked them dozens of times -- they're solid. Zombies shouldn't be able to get in."

Jared frowned. "But they are?"

"We don't know," she said with a sigh. "I know they're outside but we've never found any in the settlement."

"Then what-"

"We find bodies," Misha cut in. "Outside the barricades."

"So some people get jumped when they decide to take a walk?" Jared set his beer down, perplexed. "I'm not sure how we can help with that, Sheriff. I mean, we can talk to everyone about the dangers of zombies but it won't be anything they don't already know."

"No." Lanette shook her head. "People here are scared but they're not stupid. They wouldn't just go wandering outside the barricades without weapons."

"Suicide by zombie's not all that uncommon," Jensen said gently. "People think there's nothing left to live for and that's an easy way out."

"No," she said with more force. "These people are our friends, our coworkers. I know them -- they wouldn't just walk out there to die."

"So, what, you think something's taking them?" Jared asked. "The zombies are sneaking in somehow then dragging people outside to eat?"

"Like ninjas," Misha said helpfully.

"I don't think ninjas typically eat people," Jared said. "But I take your point."

"Have you seen anything like this before?" Lanette asked, looking between the two of them. "Zombies sneaking around instead of just attacking?"

"Never," Jensen said. "I don't think they're even capable of sneaking. If you had a zombie roaming around inside the barricades, you'd know about it."

"Then what's doing it?" Misha asked. "How is it that people are safe in their beds one night and then found torn apart in the woods three days later?"

Silence descended as they all considered the question.

When no-one offered a solution, Jared looked over to Jensen. "Are we sure undead ninjas are definitely off the table?"

**+++**

There was a fresh corpse when Jared woke up the next morning.

Thankfully it wasn't in close proximity -- a grumpy Jensen was about the only thing Jared could deal when he first got out of bed -- but when they headed out into Randolph, 'body', 'lungs' and 'so much blood' were the first snatches of sentences he caught from the gathering crowd.

Lanette stepped out to intercept them as they approached and Jared looked between her and the cluster of people when he asked, "It happened again?"

"Last night," Lanette said, lips thinning as she ran a hand through her hair. "The team who went out to collect wood saw another body early this morning. We think it's one of the guys who works construction." Frustration colored her voice. "I don't understand how this is even possible. I've checked the barricades myself -- no zombie could get through them."

"We'll figure it out," Jensen promised. "Are those the men who found the body?"

He gestured over to where two guys, presumably father and son, were holding court in front of the villagers, and he stepped forward when Lanette nodded. "Where d'you see the body?"

Mid-story, the two guys stopped abruptly and exchanged glances before eyeing Jensen with suspicion. "Who's asking?"

"Take it easy, Walt," Lanette said. "They're here to help."

Walt, the older of the two, didn't look fully convinced but answered anyway. "It was way up on the ridge, further along from the blue rocks."

"And it was a fresh kill?"

"Looked pretty damn fresh to me," Walt said. "The poor guy's chest was ripped open."

There were murmurs of disgust around them but Jensen took no notice. "Were there any animals there? Any zombies around?"

"Not that I saw," Walt said. "Soon as we found that body, we came straight back to town. I wasn't about to hang around to be zombie chow too."

Jensen's lips were pursed in a familiar expression and Jared elbowed him in the side as he said, voice hushed, "That's your thinking face. What's the plan?"

"I don't have a thinking face," Jensen muttered. Jared had plenty of evidence to the contrary but decided to let it go in favor of allowing him to continue. "The kill can't have happened more than an hour or two before they found the body. If we can go out and bring it back, there might be some clues there."

"Like as to how a guy is safe in his bed one moment and dead in the woods the next?"

"Something like that."

"Sounds like a plan," Jared said, straightening up and turning to Lanette. "I guess it's search party time. Bring your own machetes?"

"It's too early," Lanette said. "I don't know how it is across the rest of the country but the zombies here are most active mid-morning and mid-afternoon. We'll stand a better chance when the sun's high -- they don't like the heat."

Jensen's eyes jumped to Jared who flashed him a quick grin. He knew all too well how zombies reacted to overheating.

"I don't think we can wait that long," Jensen said. "Noon isn't for hours yet, and the longer we leave the body out there, the more chance the zombies get to claw away any evidence." 

He turned, speaking up as he addressed the villagers, "I know it's more dangerous out there now but we need as much information as we can get so that we can stop these killings. Me and my colleague here will be heading out in fifteen minutes -- we'd be more than grateful for the support if anyone else decides they want to come along."

He rested his hand on the hilt of his machete, looking every inch the dashing hero as the sunlight caught the side of his face, and Jared tried to keep his appreciative gaze as subtle as possible. For a guy without superpowers, Jensen could be pretty damn heroic.

(And attractive. So very attractive.)

Apparently the villagers had the same thought and Jared smiled proudly when a handful of them stepped forward, weapons in hand as they offered their help in the search party. Misha was the one of the last and he met Jared's eyes with a shrug as he said, "I haven't done anything radically foolish in a while. I think I'm overdue."

Jared returned his grin before Walt stepped in with a sigh. "Guess I'm in too. You're gonna need someone to guide you up there."

"And the Sheriff makes eight," Lanette said. "Turner, Finch, can you put together something to transport the body? Everyone else, make sure you have what you need and meet by the south gate in ten minutes."

Judging by the way everyone scattered, she had them well-trained. Giving Misha a quick wave, Jared fell into step with Jensen as they headed to retrieve some back-up weapons from their truck. 

"So we're just going to head out there," Jared said, "at the exact time when the zombies are most active."

Jensen inspected the blade of his machete. "Yep."

"And then we're going to carry a dead body back through the hordes of zombies while we try not to get eaten."

"Yep."

"Okay." Jared sighed. "You know how people keep thinking we're crazy? Well, this would be why."

**+++**

Jared's palms were damp against his machete as the group moved higher up the slope.

They'd dispatched a small cluster of zombies upon first exiting the town but as they moved through the trees, there hadn't been as many as Jared had feared. A few had come lurching out of the woods a few minutes back, lunging for the nearest member of the search party, but they'd been dispatched efficiently by the rest of the crew, leaving them to continue their slow hike up to the body.

Jensen and Lanette were in the lead, with Jared and Misha bringing up the rear. It was a sensible arrangement, given their experience, but as he knocked a branch aside with his machete, Jared couldn't help but wish he could use his powers. 

It wasn't so much that he disagreed with the game plan -- using his powers in non-emergency situations often caused more problems than necessary -- but magical powers were definitely more comforting than what was basically a giant knife.

"It's right up here," Walt called, pointing over Jensen's shoulder. "That's where we were collecting wood when we saw it."

Lanette and Jensen pressed onward, guided by Walt as the equivalent of a backseat driver, and Jared looked over the heads of the group when they finally came to a stop.

"Oh God."

Brad sounded as though he was about to throw up. When Jared got a look at the body, he couldn't blame him. It was torn to shreds, the flesh ripped clean off the bone in some places and the chest cavity opened wide enough for the sun to glint off the slick blood on the lungs. 

A couple of the group turned away to vomit into the brush, and Jared moved forward as Lanette said softly, "It's Rick. He- He used to work in the bike store; he helped us put together the barricades."

"I'm sorry," Jared said, resting his hand on her shoulder while Jensen sized up the corpse.

"He was a big guy," Jensen said. "If he was armed, it would've taken more than one zombie to take him down." He waved to Turner and Finch. "C'mon, let's load him up and Collins here can take a look at him when we get back."

"I'm not sure what you're expecting me to find," Misha said, moving out of the way to let Jensen and the others lift the body onto the stretcher. "I look at all the bodies that come through and it's always zombies. Greedy, vicious zombies."

"Zombies," Walt repeated.

"Well, yes," Misha said. "This is a zombie apocalypse. Murder by zombies is pretty much par for the course at this point."

"No," Walt said, face paling as he backed away from the pair of them. "Zombies!"

Jared barely had time to register the horde of zombies spilling down the slopes behind him before the search party descended into chaos.

Brad screamed, scrambling behind Jared. Walt seemed to have taken a similar approach with Misha and Jared stood shoulder-to-shoulder with him as the rest of the group advanced to take down the first handful of zombies with some well-placed machete strikes.

"You two," Jared said sharply above the screams of the zombies, "you stay with the body. Don't let any zombies get past you, okay?"

Brad and Walt nodded, standing back to back beside the corpse, and Jared and Misha took off to join in the melee on the slope. The zombies came tearing towards them, off-angled knees and ankles making them stagger as they crawled over the rocks, and Jared adjusted his grip on the machete, going through the moves Jensen had taught him as he kicked one zombie back into a tree before slicing off its head.

There were two more right behind it, their hands outstretched and their mouths open in a mindless growl, and Jared aimed low with his machete. It went cleanly through the leg of one, knocking it down to crawl forward on its bloody stump, but he winced when the nails of the other zombie tore into his lower back.

They were ripped out when Jared turned to land a solid punch to its head, and the zombie went staggering back into a tree, organs slipping out from the old wound across its stomach. The first zombie was easily dispatched as it clawed at his leg, and Jared drove his machete between the ribs of the second one when it charged again.

Blood splattered on his shirt when he pulled it out, and he moved to bring the blade down through the zombie's neck when he heard Misha's panicked cry.

The distraction was all the zombie needed and Jared jumped when its hand closed around his wrist, making him drop the machete as it lunged forward to take a bite.

A fist to the face stopped it but Jared turned to check on Misha before he retrieved his machete. Flat on his back at the edge of the group, Misha was fighting valiantly against the zombie that had him pinned down but judging by how close the zombie's teeth were to his throat, the fight was not going well.

Jared decided that this counted as an emergency.

The zombie to his left stumbled to its feet again, dazed from the punch yet staggering forward, but Jared outran it easily as he headed straight to Misha. The zombie's skin was slick with blood when he laid his hand on it and Jared ignored the squelch when he gripped it by the jaw to haul its teeth away from Misha's neck.

His power burned bright inside of him, bursting into life beneath his skin, and he breathed through the rush as he gripped the zombie's jaw tighter. He held his other hand up when the second zombie approached and he closed his eyes at the pulse of heat that radiated out from both his palms.

The kneeling zombie screamed, blood running from its mouth and eyes as it arched and thrashed against the onslaught of heat. Hit by a weaker dose, the second one lurched forward another step, hands to its head and teeth bared as Jared's power seared through it.

They collapsed seconds apart, torn bodies slumping to the forest floor, and Jared rested his hands on his knees as he caught his breath.

When he looked up again, it was to see Misha staring up at him with wide eyes. Jared's gaze jumped to Walt and Brad, then the rest of the search party, but Lanette and Jensen were the only ones looking in his direction. 

Lanette's face was slack with astonishment but Jensen's expression was unreadable as he spun back around to cut down another zombie with a shout of "On your left, Sheriff!"

Grateful for the distraction when she turned away, Jared held out his hand to Misha, who flinched back.

Jared cringed. "It's okay," he said quickly. "It's off now." He tapped his hands together in demonstrate. "No more heat, see?"

Misha still looked uncertain as he backed away from Jared and pulled himself to his feet, and Jared took a step forward as he tried to explain. Non-Jensen friends didn't come along all that often; he didn't want to lose another one.

"I swear, it's not as scary as you think," Jared said. "It's just a thing I can do. I-"

Pain splintered through the back of his head before he could finish. 

Misha's shout sounded distant as he dropped to his knees, barely able to blink past the throbbing ache in his skull, and Jared found himself slipping away before he could do anything to stop it.

**+++**

Misha's face was the first thing Jared saw when he woke up.

After a moment of confusion (and, if he was honest, mild disappointment) over why it wasn't Jensen's face, the pain brought him back to reality and he squeezed his eyes shut again with a groan.

"Ouch..."

"Headache?" Misha asked and Jared groaned again.

"Like a motherfucker." He risked cracking his eyes open again, squinting against the sunlight that streamed in through the windows. "What the hell happened? I feel like a truck just drove over my head."

"Zombie," Misha said cheerfully and Jared scrunched his eyes shut again. That explained it.

"It knocked me out?"

"Yep." Misha's chair squeaked as he leaned back. "We thought you were dead at first. It wasn't a comforting moment."

Jared's brain throbbed unpleasantly. "Yeah, I think I'm getting that." He gave eye-opening one more shot. "Is everyone else okay?"

"A few bumps and bruises," Misha said, "but nothing serious. We got everyone back in one piece, Rick included."

"Rick?" Jared's memory came back online. "Oh. The body." He ignored the hammer of protest inside his skull when he propped himself up against the pillows. "Did you find anything on him?"

"I haven't looked yet," Misha said. "I figured there were more pressing matters to attend to." He fixed him with a stare. "Like you having superpowers, for instance."

"Ah." Jared looked down, waiting for the recriminations to begin. "That."

"I gotta say," Misha said, "your superhero powers are a lot less impressive when you get bludgeoned by a zombie thirty seconds later."

In spite of the growing dread in his stomach, Jared smiled. "I try to mix it up," he said, looking at him carefully. "So should I expect to be run out of town by a pitchfork-wielding mob any time soon, or are they waiting until after lunch?"

Misha smiled. "No mob, no pitchforks," he promised. "I think me and the Sheriff are the only ones who noticed."

Jared nodded. "You think you could keep it quiet?" he asked. "People have got enough on their plates without worrying about some genetic freak roaming around their town."

"I'm not sure I'd use the word 'roaming'. Maybe 'putzing'. But sure," he said with an understanding smile, "I'll keep it to myself. I can see why you wouldn't go around announcing it." His gaze jumped down to Jared's hands and he asked, "So what happened? Did you get bitten by a radioactive microwave as a child?"

Jared laughed. "Man, that would be such a cool origin story. No radioactive microwaves for me though -- it's a genetic thing. I've had it since I was a kid."

"And what, you just give off heat? Do you have to be touching someone or can you do it from a distance?"

"Both," Jared said, sitting up straighter in bed. His head still felt bruised but he was grateful for the distraction from his headache. "Touching works best but it can travel short distances too. Kind of like a hairdryer."

"Is it just your hands?" Misha asked, looking him over curiously. "Or does the rest of you give off heat too?"

"My hands, mostly," Jared said, wiggling his fingers. "It only comes on when I concentrate though, and my hands are kind of the easiest thing to focus on."

"How does it feel?" he asked, sitting forward curiously. "Is it hot inside your skin? Are you immune to other kinds of heat? How do you react with water-"

"Collins?" 

The call came from outside before Jared could answer any of Misha's questions, and they both looked over to see Jensen come striding in through the door of the makeshift hospital ward. "Collins, is he awake y-"

His question ended abruptly when he caught sight of Jared and the tension in his face smoothed out when he relaxed into a smile. "Hey, man." He aimed a half-hearted glare at Misha as he approached. "What happened to giving me a heads-up when he came to?"

"Sorry," Misha said, "I got distracted. He seems okay though -- he was complaining of a headache but everything else looks good."

"Great." Jensen's smile was one of relief and Jared couldn't help the pleased grin that crossed his face in return. Jensen's worry was kind of sweet. "That's great. I'm glad you're okay. You scared the living fuck out of us back there."

Remembering Misha's comment about thinking he was dead, Jared tried to sound as reassuring as possible when he said, "I'm fine, I promise. It'll take more than a zombie with a blunt instrument to get rid of me." He frowned, rubbing the bump on the back of his head. "What did I get hit with, anyway? Was it a sledgehammer? It felt like a sledgehammer."

"Human leg," Jensen said cheerfully.

Jared swallowed down his nausea. "I didn't want to know that." He looked to Misha. "Does that count as being kicked in the head? I feel like being kicked is more respectable than being whacked by a dismembered leg."

"I think the respectable boat sailed a long time ago," Jensen said with a fond smile. "So, are you on bedrest a while longer or do you wanna come get some lunch?"

"Lunch," Jared said, latching onto the promise of food. "I can do lunch."

"I'm shocked," Jensen deadpanned. "Collins, the Sheriff was looking for you. Something about the heat in the morgue."

Misha wrinkled his nose. "There's no way this isn't going to be disgusting, is there?"

"Nope." Jensen patted him on the shoulder. "Have fun, man."

With a groan, Misha pushed himself out of his chair and passed on the shoulder-pat reassurance to Jared. "I hope your head feels better soon."

"Me too," Jared said with a smile. "Thanks, dude."

Misha disappeared out into the sunshine and Jensen settled into his seat as he asked, "So you're really feeling okay?"

"I'm fine," Jared said, submitting to Jensen's hands as he pushed Jared's head down to inspect his wound. "I've got one hell of a headache but nothing life-threatening."

"Good." Jensen flicked his ear and sat back in the chair. "No more getting attacked by zombies."

"Jensen, all we do is get attacked by zombies." He frowned. "And argue about which TV characters would've survived longest if they were attacked by zombies."

Jensen propped his feet up on the bed. "It's still Fred."

"Oh, please," Jared said. "Velma would have that in the bag. She's wily."

"Bullshit," Jensen said, smiling. "But I mean it, Jared. I know you've got powers and all, but you need to be careful out there, okay? Today is not something I want to go through twice."

"I'll be careful," Jared said. "It just caught me off-guard this time, that's all. I won't let it happen again."

"Good," he said, wiping his hands on his jeans. "That's good." He looked back up. "On the subject of your powers, did Collins say anything about them?"

Jared shrugged. "The standard stuff. He seemed more curious than freaked, which is always a plus." He grinned, knocking Jensen's feet off the bed as he moved to stand up. "I gotta say, I'm surprised you didn't give him the big threatening speech about you kicking his ass if he tells people what I can do. Are you maturing as a person, Ackles?"

"Please, how long have you known me?" Jensen said as he helped him up. "I gave him the speech as soon as we got back."

Jared sighed. "And I had such hopes."

**+++**

It turned out that the morgue's heat problem was just as unpleasant as Misha had anticipated.

It was late in the day by the time Jared made it over to the morgue. Once his headache had reduced to a manageable level, he'd spent the afternoon helping Jensen, the Sheriff and the other inhabitants to reinforce the barricades, and now as evening settled over the town, he was more than ready to spend some time away from the blistering warmth of the sun.

Unfortunately, the morgue wasn't all that helpful in that respect.

It was sweltering inside. Condensation gathered on the walls and doors, and even with the window open, the pitiful breeze did nothing to alleviate the putrid smell that swamped the building.

After spending a long moment convincing his stomach not to fail him now, Jared steeled himself and headed into the main examination room.

"How the hell do you work like this?"

Misha looked up from the body on his table. "Endurance and mouth-breathing mostly." He set down his scalpel and smiled. "Good evening to you too, by the way."

Rick's body was laid out on the metal table in the middle of the room. It was torn to shreds, limbs mangled by zombies and chest cavity opened wider by Misha, and Jared put a hand over his mouth to keep from retching as he approached. "How's it going?"

"Slow," Misha said, sighing. "I'm cataloguing the injuries to ensure that we've got everything but there are a lot of injuries to go through. Plus with this much tissue damage it's going to be hard to piece together exactly what happened to him." He looked down at the body. "Rick was a good guy."

"I'm sorry, man." Hit by a fresh waft of putrefaction, Jared swallowed and fought to compose himself as he stood opposite Misha to get a better look at the corpse. "Were you always a coroner? Or was this a desperate times deal?"

"No, I've been a coroner for a while," Misha said. "Well, deputy coroner, I guess. I got a post-apocalypse promotion." He eased his hand into the body to pull out the heart. "I worked in carpentry for a while before this though, and before that I was a puppeteer."

"Puppets?" Jared blinked. "Really?"

"They weren't exactly my forte," Misha said delicately. "It turned out people were less enamored with talking cockroaches than I had hoped." He didn't offer any further details before frowning at the heart in his hand. "Huh."

"Huh?" Jared leaned in closer but didn't see anything except blood and flesh. "Is that a 'this is scientifically interesting but ultimately meaningless to anyone else' huh or a 'holy shit, I just solved everything' huh?"

Misha didn't look up from the heart. "Okay, firstly, you need a wider variety of huhs," he said, "and secondly, I think a 'this is confusing but potentially important' huh is merited here."

"Potentially important sounds promising." Jared tilted his head, trying to observe whatever it was that Misha had observed. "What is it?"

"Zombies don't usually use weapons," Misha said. "Sure, they might pick up the odd human limb every now and again and flail around until they hit something, but I've never heard of one doing anything more advanced than that."

"Me neither," Jared agreed. "So, what, you think zombies are becoming smarter? Learning to use weapons?"

"I don't know," Misha said, beckoning him in to look under the magnifying glass. "You see these cuts on the heart? The edges are clean. Normally when zombies attack people, they use their fingers to claw at them. They may be strong but their fingers are blunt so the wounds left behind are always big with ragged edges where the flesh has been torn."

"But this one isn't ragged," Jared said, frowning. "I don't think I could even fit my finger inside that cut."

"Precisely." Misha prodded at the wound again, peeling it back a little to show the smooth edge. "Whatever made this was sharp and a lot thinner than your average zombie finger."

"A fingernail, maybe? Like the zombie scratched him when it was clawing him up?"

"Not sharp enough," Misha said. "And too short to make a wound this deep."

"Maybe he fell," Jared hazarded. "He was trying to escape and tripped and fell on a sharp piece of wood or some scrap metal or something?"

"It's possible," Misha said. "We'd have to check the area he died, see if there's anything that could cause wounds like that."

"That's gotta be it," Jared said. "I mean, what else would cause this? It's not like someone's out there stabbing people in the heart with daggers."

Misha looked at him pointedly and Jared's eyes widened.

"Holy fuck." He gulped. "There's someone out there stabbing people in the heart with daggers?"

"At this point, that would be the least far-fetched scenario," Misha said, his expression grim. "We should inform the Sheriff."

"And Jensen," Jared said reflexively. "Come on."

Hurrying over to the exit, he narrowly avoided taking a door to the head as it was shoved open from the other side. Finch came barreling through, red-faced and out of breath, and Jared caught him before he could go careening into the body on the table.

"Whoa, hey, slow down," he said, trying to ignore the first blare of the warning sirens sounding in his head. "What's the rush?"

Finch's palms were sweaty against Jared's shirt as he gasped, "You need to get out here. It's the Sheriff."

The warning sirens morphed into full-blown 'legitimate peril' sirens and Jared pushed past Finch to run out into the town. The morgue was on the outskirts, furthest away from the ridge and just inside the barricades, and Jared took off for the town square as fast as he could. 

Evening was drawing in, bringing a cooler breeze with it, but the lanterns were already flickering in the square by the time Jared arrived. The cluster of light acted as a beacon and Jared eased his way through the gathering crowd to where Turner and Walt were carrying the Sheriff between them.

She was a mess. Blood was matted in her hair and coursing down the side of her face from the open wound along her hairline. The fabric of her shirt was splattered with it, some of it undoubtedly zombie blood but most of it coming from the cuts on her arms and torso, where something had sliced through skin and material with equal ease.

"Oh god," Jared murmured, crouching beside her as Turner and Walt helped her to a seat. "What happened?"

Lanette lowered her head, coughing. From somewhere over Jared's right shoulder, someone pressed a cup of water into her hands and she took a shaky sip before trying to speak, "I don't know." She coughed again, wincing. "We went out to get some water -- I've been out there hundreds of times before -- and something came at us from the woods."

"Us?" Jared's heart started to sink. "Who was with you?"

Lanette looked up at him, bloody and exhausted. "I'm so sorry."

Jared's heart hit rock bottom. "Jensen."

"I don't know what attacked us," she said. "It looked like a person -- a man -- but then he- something hit us. We tried to fight it off but I went down and when I came to-" She swallowed. "Jensen was gone."

****

+++

Jared couldn't decide which machete to choose.

He was fully aware it was stupid. They were all essentially the same, a long, sharp blade attached to a short handle, but as he looked at the line of them in the back of Jensen's truck, he couldn't settle on which would be best to take with him.

Jensen was out there, alone and in danger as night closed in over them, and Jared wasn't sure he had the right tools for the job of saving him.

Pulling him out of a burning building was one thing but while he was immune to fire and heat, zombies and wood-dwelling murderers were a whole different story.

"You okay back there?"

For a second, he was convinced the voice belonged to Jensen but his hope faded when he looked up to see Misha standing next to the truck.

"Fine," he said, picking the first machete that he could reach. "Just gearing up. How's the Sheriff?"

"She's been better," Misha said. "Carter and Samuels are patching her up now." He smiled. "Well, mostly she's patching herself up and Carter and Samuels are getting yelled at for being clumsy but you get the idea."

"I'm glad she made it back," Jared said honestly. Despite his anxiety over Jensen and that fleeting second of anger that the Sheriff left him there alone, he was relieved she was okay.

"I'm guessing I can't talk you into waiting for morning?" Misha asked, friendly but resigned. "It's dangerous out there at the best of times but going out at night into a forest full of zombies and unidentified killers? That's worryingly close to suicide."

"I'll be fine." He forced a smile, letting his anxiety heat his hands orange. "Superpowers, remember?"

"Somehow the zombie bludgeoning sticks in my head more than the superpowers." Misha's smile didn't mask his concern. "Be careful, okay? I don't want your body on my table tomorrow."

"I'll do my best not to die," he promised. Sheathing his machete and letting his power fade back inside him, he scanned the rising woods beyond the barricades. "Guess I'll see you in the morning."

"Avoid sharp things," Misha said. "Particularly if they're aimed at your heart."

"I'll bear that in mind."

"And don't get eaten by zombies."

"On it."

"And watch out for poison ivy."

Jared raised his eyebrows and Misha held his hands up. "Just trying to cover the relevant bases." He gave him a weak smile. "Good luck, man."

As he headed away from the truck and towards the exit to the town, Jared couldn't help but feel like both luck and superpowers were insufficient.

The woods were dark around him, the thick trunks blocking his view in every direction and the canopy concealing what little moonlight there was. The machete was heavy in his hand as he made his way slowly through the forest, weaving up the hillside in search of any clue as to where Jensen could have gone.

The Sheriff had given him the best directions she could regarding where she and Jensen had been attacked and where their mysterious attacker seemed to have come from, but it was still a lot of ground to cover alone in the woods. The leaves rustled around him, disguising the sound of Jared's movements as well as those of a possible attacker, but the lurch and thump of zombie strides was easy enough to disguise in the dark.

He avoided them for the most part, not trusting his accuracy with the machete in the dark. While his powers could've served as both a weapon and a flashlight, he kept them under control in a bid to prevent drawing any further attention than necessary.

(Well, at least until he found Jensen. Once he got his hands on the creep that took him, Jared was pretty sure he wouldn't be able to be so controlled.)

He lost track of time as he walked. The moon rolled above him, appearing between branches every so often, but the sun gave no hint of rising by the time Jared made it to where Lanette said they'd been attacked.

If Jared was honest, it looked the same as every other part of the woods.

Pausing to catch his breath, he scanned the area in frustration. He wasn't sure what he was hoping for -- maybe some giant sign saying 'Jensen is here!' -- but the absence of any clues left him floundering.

Right up until he heard Jensen's scream, anyway.

It was faint, carried down the hillside by the breeze, but it was enough to make Jared take off running in the direction of the shout. He couldn't rule out the idea that it was a stranger, just some unfortunate guy who stumbled into the path of some zombies, but when the options were 'dead stranger' and 'possibly alive Jensen', he couldn't help but hold out a little hope.

Moving up the slope in the direction of the noise, Jared slowed down when he saw a flicker of light in the darkness.

He was pretty sure he would never have noticed the entrance in the daylight. It looked like no more than a curve of stones built up on a leafy slope and if it hadn't been for the light emanating from within, he would've walked right by. Jensen's cries grew louder as he approached and Jared raised his machete as he inched forward to peer inside.

He couldn't see anything beyond the stone and metal of a narrow tunnel cut into the side of the slope. Torches flickered on the walls, the light of the fire glinting off the metal supports, and Jared took a deep breath before walking inside.

He tried not to think about how much it felt like a lair.

Jensen's shouts rang out against the metal, mixing with some very human-sounding laughter. Heated anger flared in Jared's chest, warming his hands in the chill of the cave, but he kept moving forward until the tunnel opened out into a room.

He barely had chance to look at the person standing in the center before his machete went flying out of his hand.

It clattered against the wall and Jared whipped around in surprise to see a man with a raised hand and a smile on his face. "A machete wasn't the wisest choice of weapons now, was it?."

Jared didn't recognize him. He hadn't met everyone in the town but figured that a guy with a lair out in the zombie-infested forest wouldn't be much for human company. He was older than Jared had anticipated, with a gaunt face and long limbs, but it was the glitter of metal in his hand that held his attention.

"Jared, run!"

Turning at the shout, Jared's eyes widened when he saw Jensen up against the wall of the lair. His hands were chained together above his head, with his ankles bound to the floor by the same solid chains, and Jared's anger burned hotter at the blood staining his face and shirt.

"Jensen-"

Something coiled around his ankle before he could run anywhere, either towards Jensen or back out of the cave. Cold metal snakes ran over his feet and ankles, merging back into the metal floor as quickly as they appeared and leaving Jared trapped in place. He wobbled as he struggled, caught off-balance but getting nowhere, and he looked around to see the man strolling up to him with a smile on his lips.

The shine of his hands grew clearer as he got closer and Jared blinked at the way the flesh of his fingers narrowed into thin silver daggers at the ends. 

"What the hell are you?"

"A fortunate genetic accident," the man said coolly. His fingers changed to flesh as he straightened the collar of his shirt before sliding back to metal. "Much like yourself. Jared, is it?"

Pulling against the metal on his feet got him nowhere. "That'd be me," he said. "Do you have a name or should I just keep calling you 'creepy metal-fingered serial killer'? I mean, it's not the best nickname."

The guy laughed. "I did have an alias once. However, since we seem to be going by our real names now, you can call me Heyerdahl."

"Heyerdahl?" Jared tried for a smile. "Y'know, I think 'creepy metal-fingered serial killer' might actually be better."

Heyerdahl shrugged, fingers clicking together as he walked closer. "It wouldn't be my choice either," he said, "but that appears to be the way the world is moving these days. No more secret identities or masks to hide behind." He tilted his head. "I'm surprised you used your abilities quite so boldly this morning. I'm pleased, obviously, but surprised."

Jared blinked. "You saw me?"

"I keep track of the comings and goings in these woods," Heyerdahl said, stopping just out of Jared's reach. "Normally, it's astonishingly repetitive -- people collect wood, people collect water, people get their spines ripped out by zombies -- but you are something different."

His gaze traveled down to Jared's empty hands and Jared pushed back the flare of warmth to hide the glow.

"You give out heat," Heyerdahl said, fascinated. "What does that feel like?"

"Like an ice bath," Jared deadpanned. "What do you think it feels like?"

Heyerdahl ignored him. "It doesn't hurt you?"

"Not really." He smirked. "Why? Does yours hurt you?"

"Always."

Jared frowned at the answer. He was so used to his powers that he'd never considered the possibility that the ignition beneath his skin could actually hurt him; he couldn't help the twinge of sympathy for someone whose abilities weren't as easy to live with as his own.

That twinge of sympathy vanished quickly. "Maybe you shouldn't use it to murder people then," he said cheerfully. "Just a thought."

"Everyone needs a release sometimes," Heyerdahl said. "I just happen to be well adapted to mine." Turning his back on Jared, he approached Jensen and gripped his chin with the points of his fingers as he asked, "What about your friend here? Is he like us?" He tapped his forefinger against Jensen's lips as Jensen tried to pull free. "I've asked him nicely but he hasn't been very forthcoming."

"He's not like us," Jared said, his anger fueled further by the sight of someone else's hands on Jensen. "Look, he's got nothing to do with this. He doesn't have any powers, if that's what you're looking for. Just let him go."

Heyerdahl didn't turn away from Jensen. "But he's so enjoyable. And he's trying so hard to be brave."

He raised his hand, looking up to Jensen's bound wrists, and for the first time Jared noticed the metal that covered Jensen's hands like gloves. "What-"

He didn't get to finish the question before Heyerdahl waved his hand. One of the fingers of the gloves was wrenched backwards, bending at a sharp, unnatural angle, and Jensen cried out in pain as his finger was broken under the force of the metal. 

From the angle of some of his other fingers, this wasn't the first time and Jared struggled against the metal at his feet as Jensen breathed through the pain.

Heyerdahl's smile stayed fixed in place as he held his chin and Jared couldn't help but grin when Jensen spat in his face in defiance. "Fuck you."

Heyerdahl just tutted. More metal slithered off the walls with a wave of his hand to wrap around Jensen's mouth and when he broke the next finger, Jensen's scream was muffled.

"That's the downside to humans," Heyerdahl said with a sigh. "They may be entertaining but there's no real challenge there." He turned back towards Jared as Jensen sagged in his restraints. "I don't know about you but I used to do my best work in cities. Now I'm reduced to this, the slim pickings of a useless little town. I can't even remember the last time I encountered anyone with abilities."

"If you wanted some a fight, all you had to do was ask," Jared said. "Although I gotta say that fighting someone when they're welded to the floor doesn't exactly count as a challenge."

"But you can radiate heat," Heyerdahl said, a knowing smile on his lips. "Even held in place, you could probably hit me from there."

Jared glanced around. While the cave was probably hollowed out of rock and dirt, the metal coating the walls turned it into an oven, perfectly capable of cooking all three of them alive. (Not to mention that if he aimed anything at Heyerdahl, there was always the chance that he would miss.)

"No?" From the tone of the question, Heyerdahl had already been through the same thought process. "Interesting."

"No wonder you spend all your time hiding in a cave and attacking people at night," Jared said with a sneer. "You're a coward. You talk about wanting a challenge but you hide behind a human shield at the first chance you get."

"I'm a strategist," Heyerdahl said, spreading his sharp fingers. "Conquering you was the challenge; cutting you open is just my reward. But don't worry, I'll be sure to publicize your death." He smirked. "Well, as much as one can publicize anything in this hellhole of a world. Maybe there are some more people like us out there for me to best."

His gaze slid down to Jared's hands and Jared looked down to see that, despite his attempts at control, his palms were glowing red as the heat built under his skin.

Taking a step back towards Jensen, Heyerdahl asked, "Have you ever heard of a brazen bull?"

"Sorry," Jared said with a shrug, "My knowledge of gay pornstars isn't what it used to be."

He was pleased to see annoyance flit across Heyerdahl's face for a second before he raised his hands. Cold metal peeled off the walls, pouring down over Jensen's head, and Jared watched him thrash in the chains as it smothered him.

"The brazen bull was created on the orders of a Greek king," Heyerdahl said. "He had a hollow bull built of bronze, large enough to hold a man. His victims were then sealed inside and a fire was set beneath the bull, designed to roast them alive. It's said that the screams of the dying were particularly melodic." 

His smile was cruel as the metal around Jensen's face shifted into the shape of a bull's head. "You use your abilities in here and maybe we'll get to find out if that's true."

Jensen struggled harder, his panicked cries echoing inside the mask, and fresh heat flared into life inside Jared's chest. His hands burned with it, pulsing up his arms and through his body, and he wavered on the edge of fighting it or succumbing as Heyerdahl put the finishing touches to the bull's head.

With a quick prayer that Jensen would keep fighting, Jared took a deep breath and let the heat flood out of him.

It coursed down through his body, pouring from his chest and arms down to his legs and feet as he focused the energy as best he could. It was like driving an unfamiliar car -- the systems and responses were alien and distracting -- but as the power flowed down through his feet and across the metal floor, Jared felt it click into place again.

His chest ached with the power of it, his lungs filled with nothing but warm air as he sent wave after wave rippling across the floor. The metal around his ankles began to loosen, melting enough to let him wiggle his toes but not enough to free him, and so Jared concentrated on sending the heat flooding towards Jensen.

The chain holding Jensen's ankles down was thinner and lighter than the sheets of metal around Jared's legs. It glowed red, shimmering in the waves of heat distortion that rose off the ground, and Jared took a breath when Heyerdahl whirled around in confusion.

"I underestimated you," he said, impressed. "I didn't think you'd surrender your friend's life quite so readily." 

Metal slid off the walls like silk, reinforcing the path Jared was trying to melt. "I did wonder how powerful you were," Heyerdahl said, "but it looks like I can put up barriers quicker than you can melt your way through them. " He smiled. "Valiant effort though."

Drained, Jared sent one last wave of heat crashing towards the chains around Jensen's ankles before letting it cool inside him.

"I guess I can't interest you in some hand to hand?" he asked between breaths. "Maybe some karate or taekwondo or something?"

Chuckling, Heyerdahl strolled closer to him. The metal moved up his arm, the flesh disappearing beneath it as his whole hand turned silver and sharp, and he stretched his fingers out with a smile. "Unfortunately n-"

Jensen swung his legs up before he could finish his sentence. 

With the bull's head still in place and his ankles still chained together, the kick was blind and unwieldy but just lucky enough. It caught Heyerdahl on the side of his hip, hard enough to make him stumble, and Jared seized the opportunity.

He lunged forward so fast that he almost fell. His hands closed around the back of Heyerdahl's head and the flames inside of him ignited in a violent rush, searing through him harder and faster than Jared had ever felt before.

Heyerdahl yelled, thrashing in Jared's grip and reaching back to lash out at him with sharp fingers, but the slice of the daggers into his arms barely registered beneath the heat thundering down his arms.

With Heyerdahl's concentration broken, the bull mask shattered and fell away from Jensen's face. Despite the sheen of blood and sweat covering his skin, he looked as okay as he could've hoped for and Jared gave him the most comforting smile he could manage as his hands began to glow white-hot.

Blood ran down Jared's arms as Heyerdahl screamed. The heat seared through him, melting away skin and muscle as Jared pressed tight enough to crush his skull if he'd been human. Liquid dripped down his body, hair and flesh sloughing away to leave dull metal beneath, and when that started to give way beneath his hands, Jared decided he was pleased to have avoided the sight of melting eyeballs.

The metal of his skull caved in a moment later, sinking down into the ruined mess of his body, as Heyerdahl's scream finally cut out.

Jared's fingers still throbbed with heat when he finally pulled away. The metal slithered off his feet in an instant while the sheets of it covering the walls began to clatter to the ground. 

Narrowly avoiding being smacked in the head by a falling chunk of it, Jared ran over to Jensen just before the chain holding his hands up gave way. He stumbled forward into Jared's arms and they both winced in unison as Jensen's broken fingers hit the cuts along Jared's forearms.

"Shit," Jensen hissed, holding his arm to his chest and wiping blood off his face with his non-broken hand. "Oh god, that's a lot of blood. You okay?"

"I was gonna ask you the same thing," Jared said, trying to look down to his feet. "Are your ankles-"

"Burned but not bad," Jensen said through gritted teeth. More metal crashed down around them and he scanned the lair for the exit. "Maybe we should do the medical check-ups when we're not in a collapsing hole in the ground?"

"You see," Jared said, "this is why you're the sensible one." 

Snatching his discarded machete up off the ground, he led the way back down the narrow tunnel at speed as the dirt began to pour in through the holes in the metal. Jensen was right behind him and Jared let himself slump to the ground as soon as they made it clear.

The clash of metal and the rush of dirt and stones rang out through the forest as Jared stared up past the canopy of trees and fought to catch his breath. The cuts on his arms stung more sharply in the cool night air, and he eased his jacket off to use it as a lazy makeshift bandage. "Ow…"

Beside him, Jensen sounded equally pained and exhausted when he laughed. "Seconded." Jared looked over to see him cradling his broken fingers as he muttered, "Fucking _ow_."

"We can set them when we get back," Jared offered. "I'm sorry, man."

"Not your fault," Jensen said with a wince. "Well, I guess the burns are kind of your fault but given the alternative, I don't think you need to apologize for that."

"That's the sweetest thing you've ever said to me."

Jensen looked at him with a tired smile. "Don't let it go to your head."

Silence descended for a brief moment as they both dealt with the pain but Jensen broke it again before Jared could fall asleep right there. "Did you really need to melt his eyeballs?"

"Shut up."

"I'm just saying." Jensen wrinkled his nose. "I mean, I know I've seen some gross stuff over the years but holy crap, that was disgusting."

Jared grinned. "More disgusting than when I ate that bad shrimp in Maryland?"

Jensen's groan was loud and heartfelt. "Man, I was doing so well at repressing that."

Laughing, Jared looked back up at the stars as he listened to Jensen's breathing even out next to him.

"Thank you," Jensen said quietly. "For coming to get me."

"You would've done the same for me," Jared said.

"That's not what I mean. You-" He sighed. "I'm so used to stuff like finding your hair in the sink and dealing with how bad your feet smell that I forget you're a fully-fledged superhero sometimes."

"Fully-fledged superhero, huh?" Jared grinned. "Does that mean I can start calling myself Radiator again?"

"Definitely not," Jensen said without hesitation before softening a little. "I'm just glad you were here, that's all."

"Hey," Jared said, squeezing Jensen's good hand, "I'm always going to be here. I've survived a burning building, the apocalypse, and those god-awful shrimp tacos -- no way I'm being taken down by the supervillain version of Edward Scissorhands."

Jensen squeezed back. "Good."

Their noses almost brushed when Jensen turned his head to face him. He had a cut at the corner of his lip, tiny enough that it had already stopped bleeding, and Jared found himself wondering whether he could kiss him carefully enough for it not to hurt. (Or well enough that Jensen wouldn't care if it did.)

"Jensen-" He swallowed down the lump in his throat. "I-"

Jensen's eyes went wide before he could finish, focused on something over Jared's head, and Jared sighed. "Zombies?"

Jensen gave him a sympathetic smile. "Zombies."

He reached for the machete with his good hand and pushed himself up with a moan of pain. "Hold that thought, okay?"

Lying back on the slope, Jared promptly let the thought in question slip away once again. Watching his potential boyfriend decapitate two zombies with cheerful efficiency was kind of a moment killer.

**+++**

Jared slept for sixteen hours when they made it back to Randolph. 

It took another couple of late-night conversations with Misha and Jensen before his sleep patterns were back on an even keel but after tiring himself out reinforcing the barricades during the day, he was finally sleeping through the night again three days later.

On Jensen's suggestion, they'd dug up Heyerdahl's former lair to put the metal to use as an extra layer of defense against the zombies. The official story was that the killer had been a drifter rather than a super-powered psychopath but after a few murder-free nights, the inhabitants were starting to settle into a normal way of life again, complete with shiny new barricades.

It was the morning of the fourth day when Jared was flagged down by Misha as he was putting the finishing touches to the barricades on the north perimeter.

"We just got back from a water run," Misha explained. He passed Jared a cup once he'd climbed back down the ladder and wiped his hands on his jeans. "I, uh- I thought you might be thirsty after all that manual labor and uh-" 

He cleared his throat and finally lifted his eyes from Jared's torso. "You are very shirtless."

Jared laughed. "And sweaty," he said, downing the water and turning to locate a towel and his t-shirt in that order.

"I'm not against it," Misha said. "You sure we can't convince you to stay on here for a while? I hear the job of 'shirtless handyman' is very spiritually rewarding."

"Sorry, man," Jared said with a smile. "Places to go, zombies to kill, all that jazz."

"You're all healed up?"

Jared held out his arms to show off his healing wounds. "I still look like I got in a fight with a hedge strimmer but at least now it looks like I won." He fell into step with Misha as they walked back into the center of town. "How about you? Are you enjoying your job more now that the number of corpses has reduced?"

"Immensely," Misha said. "I've gone back to carpentry when it's quiet at the morgue. It turns out wood-carving is a much more rewarding occupation than cutting up dead people."

"Color me shocked."

"I, for one, never would've seen that coming," Misha agreed. "I'll make sure to carve you something for the next time you stop by. Maybe some kind of wooden machete in case you run into any more metal-based supervillains."

"Sounds great," Jared said honestly. Strolling over to where Lanette and Jensen were perched on the back of the truck, he suggested, "Or hey, maybe some kind of screen I can put up in the truck to block out Jensen's attempts at singing along with his CDs?"

"Fuck you," Jensen said good-naturedly. "You love my singing."

"I don't think it can technically be called singing."

Jensen opened his mouth to argue but was interrupted by Lanette's question, "I still don't understand how you two manage to spend all day together without throttling each other."

"Immense self-control," Jensen said.

"My face helps," Jared added. "I'm just too pretty to punch."

Jensen snorted and Lanette rolled her eyes. "I'll take your word for it."

Nodding in satisfaction, Jared looked between the two of them. They were both still banged up, with Jensen's hand now taped up to heal, but most of the superficial injuries had now faded. "So are you two done comparing war wounds? Can I get this show back on the road?"

"They were attacked by a supervillain," Misha pointed out. "I think they're allowed to compare injuries."

"Hey, I was attacked by a supervillain too," Jared said. "How come I'm not included in this party?"

"Because you're a superhero," Lanette said.

"And because you were busy doing some shirtless handiwork," Misha added.

"And because I've seen a cat give you more serious injuries than those," Jensen said with a smirk.

Jared scowled. "It was a zombie cat."

Jensen glanced over at Lanette. "It was definitely not a zombie cat."

"Shush," Jared said, clapping a hand over Jensen's mouth before he could ruin his heroic prestige any further. "I'm a dog person anyway."

Jensen was smiling when Jared lowered his palm. "You're lucky I like you."

"I'm forever grateful," Jared said, resting his arm on Jensen's shoulder. "You ready to hit the road?"

Pushing himself off the back of the truck, Jensen turned to Lanette to say his goodbyes and Jared looked to Misha. "It was really good to meet you, man."

"Likewise," Misha said, patting him on the back as Jared pulled him in for a hug. They swapped partners, with Jared moving to hug Lanette as Misha said, "Keep in touch. Learn how to train carrier pigeons."

Jared grinned. "I'll work on that." Climbing into the driver's seat, he waved to them both. "Thanks again for everything."

"Right back at you," Lanette said, waving back. "Drive safe."

"Watch out for zombies," Misha said. "And not just in the 'avoid' sense. The 'kersplat' sense works too." 

He mimed a car running over a zombie. Jared nodded studiously. "Got it."

"See you around, guys," Jensen called from the passenger seat as Jared started the engine, and with a final round of waves and goodbyes, they headed back out of Randolph.

"Y'know, it's not like zombies are the only thing we need to watch out for anymore," Jared said with a glance at Jensen.

Jensen smiled. "What, more killer cats?"

"Or killers in general. You know there are people out there taking advantage of this to kill however they like. And that's not even counting people like Heyerdahl," he said, steering out onto the empty highway. "The apocalypse didn't get rid of supervillains any more than it did superheroes. They're just not terrorizing cities and wearing capes anymore."

"Hey, small mercies," Jensen said. He was still smiling and sounded way more relaxed that Jared would've expected. "You have superpowers, Jared. The existence of other people with similar powers but terrible morals isn't exactly a surprise." He patted him on the thigh, eyes on the road ahead. "We're competent zombie-fighting professionals. We'll figure it out."

Jensen's hand on his leg provided remarkably effective stress relief and Jared relaxed back in his seat a little. "Yeah," he said with renewed confidence. "Yeah, we will."

Jensen's hand inched up his thigh for one last squeeze of reassurance as he glanced over at him with a smile on his lips. 

"We got this," Jared said, flicking the volume up as the road stretched out ahead of them. "Apocalypse, schmapocalypse."


End file.
